


The Mother

by Icarusdusoleil



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarusdusoleil/pseuds/Icarusdusoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a ghost out in the wastes. She leads ragged travelers and weary refugees to the Green Place, where the gates are always open. She is called the Mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mother

There was a ghost out in the wastes.

It was talked about in hushed tones throughout the Citadel. The ghost led battered refugees to the base of the triplet mesas. The refugees spoke of a ghost, a spirit, a figure who gently beckoned them towards this new Green Land.

“Gentle,” one exhausted woman croaked as they carried her and her lethargic child up into the winding maze of the Citadel. “She was so gentle and kind.”

“But what did she look like?”

“Glittering white, with golden hair and flowing fabrics. Her hands were soft and cold. She was so splendidly beautiful,” the woman wrung her shaking hands and smiled, tears streamed down her face, “She saved us. She brought us to the Green Place.”

The legends of this beautiful spirit who saved travelers spread quickly, even to the four sisters who ruled the Citadel. They quietly wondered amongst themselves what this phenomenon was, but kept quiet and let the people believe that there was a compassionate spirit protecting them.

Then, one day, a skeleton wandered in from the wastes, with pasty skin stretched taut over bones and black eyes sunken into the skull.  The people of the citadel panicked, for they knew what this figure was. He brought memories of a terrible past. They shouted and screamed, “War boy! War boy at the Citadel!” But the skeleton collapsed.

The war pups gathered around the fallen war boy and begged the people to let them bring him in. But the people refused and said their gates were closed to his kind. The war boy’s eyes fluttered and he took a rattling breath.

“I’m back,” he said hoarsely through scarred lips, “I’m back from Fury Road. A spirit led me here, so shiny… so white.”

That gave the people pause, and then they began to fight and bicker amongst themselves. What should they do? This Immortan worshiper was talking about _their_ ghost, the one who saved _them_. They argued and a war pup ran up the Citadel steps to tell the sisters of the war boy’s arrival and the dilemma.

Capable quickly ran down the steps. The war boy began to weep as he saw her, with her flowing white cloth and windswept hair as red as flames. She knelt at his side and held his hands as he struggled for breath. She dipped her shawl in water and squeezed it over his mouth in an attempt to rehydrate him. The people were silent as she stroked the poor, dying war boy’s face.

“Where did you come from?” Capable asked and remembered a time long past when she asked another boy the same question.

“Fury Road,” the young man struggled, “I fell off the War Rig and thought I was going to Valhalla, but the gates were closed to me. I thought I was to die in the desert, but a beautiful spirit took my hand and guided me back here.”

Capable glanced over her shoulder at the solemn people behind her, then looked back to the war boy. He coughed and grimaced, but continued, “She said… ‘We’re going to the Green Place’ and I knew then that she was the Mother.”

“Your mother?”

“Not _mine_ , you see, for I never knew my mother,” he licked his lips and paused as his breathing grew shallow, “The Mother… on the Rig. She’s here to save us, the Splendid Mother.”

Capable bowed her head and bit her lips as she realized who he was talking about. The war boy trembled and managed to say, “Valhalla may be closed to me, but I know the Green Place will welcome all.”

The war boy closed his eyes and struggled to breathe. Capable felt hot tears run down her face and fall onto the young man’s pallid cheeks. She held onto his hands and asked, “War boy, what is your name?”

He smiled and said, “Spit.”

“Welcome to the Green Place, Spit,” Capable touched his cheek. He sighed and grew very still.

Capable bowed her head and brought a hand to her chest. The people witnessed his death with silent respect, for the war boy spoke of the same spirit that they had begun to worship. Capable stood and the war pups circled around their fallen comrade to take him away.

She stepped out of their way and looked out over the desert that stretched before them. In the distance, she saw a lone figure just standing and watching. It seemed to glow and flow with ethereal light, with pearly fabric and golden hair. Capable smiled and the spirit smiled back.

There is a ghost out in the wastes. She leads ragged travelers and weary refugees to the Green Place, where the gates are always open. She is called the Mother.

**Author's Note:**

> This short story came from a dream that I had and just kind of ran with. I love the idea of Angharad becoming somewhat of a saint, that people believe watch over them and protect them.


End file.
